Chapter Thirty-Seven
Christmas Day. Noon. Kitchen
It pans out exactly the way I predicted. He never comes back, and soon enough things get busy in the kitchen.
It’s time to take the roast meat out of the oven.
Meredith comes back looking glamorous in a sequined dress. She’s styled her hair into a pretty mass of dark curls around her face like a halo.
“You look beautiful,” I say taking the lamb out of the oven, covering it with foil and a towel so it can rest.
“Shouldn’t you go get ready” she looks at my apron over jeans.
I have my clothes ready in my room. A forest green shift dress with a matching silk scarf to twist though my hair like a French plait.
“I’ll go just as soon as the roast potatoes are in the oven.” I take out a heavy tray with two stuffed birds on it. “Can you give me a hand with the chickens.”
“We’ll be chickens ourselves, running around in a minute. Go and get ready and I’ll do the roasties. I am an expert.”
She starts to slide the first tray of fluffed-up potatoes into the very hot oven, all the time ladling more hot fat over them. Her head is almost in over the tray when an errant spark catches on the melted fat and flames up.
I rush over the pull her away and close the oven door but not before her hair is on fire.
Quickly I grab a towel off the counter and rub it over her head. The flames weren’t very bad. Just enough to burn off her fringe. The kitchen fills with the acrid smell of singed hair. Meredith lifts a hand to her head, discovered the fringe now reduced to two short inches above her forehead. She starts to cry.
I take her to sit by the table “Oh, darling it’s not too bad. Just this bit.” I try to make light of it even thought my own heart breaks for her. “It won’t show if you part your hair the other way. And it’ll grow back.
But Meredith is inconsolable. “I smell disgusting.”
“Tell you what.” I squat in front of her. “Why don’t you go to my room and wash your hair and you can use my hairdryer. I’ve mousse and conditioner so you can restyle differently.”
She wipes at her eyes, but more tears come.
“Go. Before your eyes get all puffy from crying. And look behind my door, there’s a hanger with my green dress and a silk scarf. You can tie the scarf in a band around your head with a pretty bow. No one will see the short bits.”
Good, the tears are stopping.
“We don’t have time.” She glances around the table. “All the piles of vegetables want cooking and the chipolatas—”
“I can do all that.” I squeeze her hand. “And check my jewellery box, I have some nice big earrings. They’ll go well with the scarf look.”
Finally, she agrees to go.
Alone in the kitchen, I look at the various things waiting to be cooked and do a quick calculation.
Potatoes first. I finish putting those in the hot part of the oven.
“Hey.” It’s Ricky at the kitchen door again.
“What?” I ask without looking up. One burn incident is enough for one yuletide.
“They want you to come to the hub.”
“After lunch.” I turn to the stuffing.
Obviously both chickens are stuffed but that’s nowhere near enough, So I have three trays. Two of sage and onion, one of apple and cranberry. That last one is in balls so it’s easier to tell the difference when they’re served.
“Are all these for us?” Ricky taking advantage of Meredith’s absence, sidles over and looks around all the prepped food. “Nothing is cooked yet? He sounds frustrated.
“Ricky? Are you hungry?” I take the stuffing ball from his hand and plop it back on the baking sheet.
“Starving,” he says in a plaintive voice.
“I’ll make you a deal. You leave me alone to finish cooking and I’ll give you a mince pie as long as you don’t tell anyone. I can’t have them all raiding the kitchen.”
“Cross my stomach and hope to get fat.”
My lips twitch. But I hand him a mince pie and push him out.
Okay, next job. Vegetarian chipolatas wrapped in filo pastry. They don’t need long to roast but it’s better I prep them now so they can go in at the end.
Now. I stop to take stock. The vegetables won’t take too long, the gravy is on simmer. It gives me ten minutes to run to the orangery – yes I hate the name but now isn’t the time to worry about that – and check the table setting.
Meredith, bless her, has laid all the plates, cutlery and glasses perfectly. She’s even folded napkins.
Haneen, as promised, has made five gorgeous wreaths which are now hanging on the walls. She must have had leftover red ribbon, bits of tinsel and holly sprigs which she’s left in a big tub under the side table. There also lots of candles and a large platter of pine cones. On impulse, I arrange them on the dining table, here and there to add a festive touch.
It was a great idea to set the tables in a horseshoe with all the chairs on the outside. This way, everyone will be able to see everyone. Much better than one long table.
A last touch. I light the candles and put them on the floor in the corners of the room. Too far to risk anyone tripping over them, but enough to make a flickering light effect.
With the wreaths, the pine cones on the table, the scattered tinsel and holly, flickering candles, and the Christmas carols from the speakers, it finally feels, looks, even smells like a dream Christmas.
Even the frost covered dead garden looks spectacular.
Another dash to the kitchen and back with the small bowls of sauces, cranberry, mint, wine and apricot, spiced apple and ginger and finally the requested bread sauce. That last I’ve decorated with a sprinkling of flaked almond leftover from making biscuits.
I stand admiring it all until…Gravy is probably boiling by now!
And vegetables!
Damn it!
I run back to the kitchen in a panic just in time to find Ricky back in the kitchen.
“I was looking for you.” He grins at me. “You wouldn’t believe what’s happening.”
“What?” I rescue the gravy and line up three jugs to pour it into, later.
“They’re all in that meeting in the conference room. About the old people’s home—”
“You’re not supposed to call it that.” Before he can object, I hold up a hand. “Or Geriatric or geries. It’s not nice.” I turn back to the counter.
“Okay, okay.” he jumps up to perch on the end of the counter, “You remember that old geezer, Jack?”
“Of course.”
“He left his money to Evan.”
This makes me pause and stare at Ricky. “How do you know?”
“Evan told them. He changed his will the day before he died. He left fifty thousand pounds for Kendric House. Evan said he tried to offer you some of it but you refused.” He jumps down form the counter and starts walking around, unable to sit still. “Did you really turn down, like thousands of pounds? Someone said because you are a actress and going to America. Are you really?”
“Who said that”
“Dunno. Couldn’t see from behind the door.”
“What?” I stop with a handful of baby Brussel sprouts on the way to the pot. “What do you mean from behind the door?”
“It’s a secret meeting. We weren’t allowed in.”
The kettle comes to the boil and clicks off. “You shouldn’t listen at doors.” I pour hot water over the sprouts, cover the pot and turn on the heat.
“But—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“You don’t want to know?”
“Not if it’s a private discussion.”
My next task: green beans and broccoli need to steam.
“But it’s like—” Ricky persists.
“No. If they wanted me to know they’d have asked me.” I fit the three tiers of the steamer and start loading in the green beans.
“They did ask you. You said you were busy.”
I hate to admit it but he has a point.
“Evan says they can have the ground floor of the west wing because it’s the biggest and doesn’t need a lot of construction. So Raff thinks they can make a old—a ger—er…retirement home here.”
No doubt he can tell I’m now listening even as I set up the steamer and fill it with broccoli.
“Then the nurse, the one who drove the van. She said some of the older residents, that’s what she called them, older. I’m not calling them names. She said some were too feeble—that’s what she called them, feeble. They need more care. But she said ten, maybe twelve who are healthy and strong and they can move here with minimal care. And that’s when the old people said they can pay whatever they pay now to the old people home.”
My hands still on top of the steamer.
This is all so…so shocking. And seems to be coming together far too quickly to be a coincidence.
Was that why Raff flew in from Mauritania? Was it what Evan emailed him about? It would explain why he was so cagey when I asked him.
And why he was in such a rush to go speak to Evan.
The I realise the vegetables are still raw and quickly turn on the hob.
“Raff is going to be the manager of the new old people—retirement home here,” Ricky continues. “He said if they paid The Glyn can be divided to pay a full-time nurse and housekeeping. But they would use the money from the fifty thousand to decorate the rooms and he said he will only do it if you change—”
“Ricky!” The kitchen door opens and Meredith comes in. “Stop dipping your finger on the food.”
“I wasn’t.” He jumps away from the covered lamb roast.
“Out.” She snaps and he leaves.
I drain the carrots and swede and start to mash them.
My mind is both numb and alive with questions. But we have so much to finish.
“How long for the roasties?” Meredith checks her phone. “I think they should be ready.
“Don’t go near the oven,” I say. “Let me check.”
“Thanks for the scarf, it worked.” She looks at me with big uncertain eyes.
“You look lovely.” And it’s true. She looks lovely with the scarf twisted elegantly around the hairline.
“It goes with the dress” She touches the green and red pattern on her sequined dress. “And my hair looks okay like that with the curls just at the back. I might wear it like this more often.” She indicates her hidden fringe. “Not like I have a choice.”
“You can keep the scarf if you like it.” I smile at her.
“What are you going to wear.”
“Don’t worry, we don’t have time. Can you take the drinks over to put on the side table?”
After that we don’t really have a minute between plating everything and taking the food over.
Ten minutes later, we carry the large platters with the roast chickens, goose and lamb. I walk into the orangery just as Tidings of Comfort and Joy is playing on the speakers.
A moment later that’s drowned out by raucous applause, loud cheers and wolf whistles.
They’re all there, everyone sat around the horseshoe table, everyone looking glamourous and happy. It makes me very conscious of my jeans and non-too clean apron. My eyes go to Raff who looks incredible in a black ribbed jumper that moulds his sexy chest and makes me wish I’d been in a slinky silk dress, too.
“Sorry I forgot to change,” I say apologetically.
“No, she didn’t,” Meredith says. “It’s my fault. I had to change and she was left on her own to do everything.”
“You did all this alone?” Haneen, sitting between both kids, asks.
A stupid grin is fighting my face trying to show through despite my trying not to look too proud.
“Why didn’t you call me to help” she asks.
“I managed.”
“I don’t know how. It’s a miracle.”
Actually, I don’t know how I managed either.
“There’s nothing she can’t do if she put her mind to it.” This is from Raff. He gets up from his chair and comes over to give me a hug. I cling to him. Now it’s all done, my legs feel wobbly. I just want to lean on him and be held, comforted and carried in his arms.
Yeah, I know, damsel in distress. But after the marathon of the last three day, I think I’ve earned a little rescue
He kisses me, a quick kiss and whispers. “We’ll have all the time we need tonight.”
His voice makes my insides fizz and tremble
“I knew she was a miracle worker that first time she made us eat her sink-plug scones.” Alex laughs, and a moment later so does Llewellyn and the teenagers.
Not the Squad though. When I look at them, they dart looks at one another.
Finally, Vanessa says to Bill. “She’s your granddaughter.”
“Ask her or Raff will pull out?” DeNiro says.
“What?” I search their faces.
More exchange of meaningful looks. I stand there, Raff still has one arm around me.
“Do you want to tell her or shall I?” Bill asks Raff.
“I can talk to her tonight,” he answers.
“I can’t wait, I’m too old for this. Either you settle it now or we’re not eating” Shirley tells me. “I mean look at all this?” she points to the food.
“You’re her grandfather, it should come from you.” Evan cuts in, calm in that way of his.
Finally, Bill stands up. “My dear. We are moving to Kendric House. Raff has worked out a deal, whatever we were paying at The Glyn we can pay here and it will be enough to keep us self-sufficient. But we want you to stay in Kendric House and run the café.”
I glance helplessly at Evan.
“I know you’re worried about the business,” he says. “But I think they’ve come up with an idea that will make it work.”
“We didn’t.” Bill says. “It was all Raff.”
I finally turn to look up at him.
“I wanted to wait until we could speak properly.” He squeezes me to him.
“Please tell me.” Then to lighten the mood I add, “Tell me now. And quickly because if we’re going to let all this food get cold and congeal, you all may as well have stayed at The Glyn to eat Mrs Jenkins’ food.”
A chorus of groans travels round the table.
“What we were paying The Glyn,” my grandfather says. “Part of it goes towards catering. That’s a thousand pounds per person, per month. So, if we pay you that, would you take on the catering from this café and feed us?”
I stand there stunned. Absolutely stunned.
Raff says, “Okay, you’ve asked her. now she’s entitled to think about it. Give her 24 hours before she decides.” He pauses to kiss my forehead. “Now let’s eat.”